


I Know, I Know, I'm Right Here, Darling

by waterlilyvioletfog



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Book 2: A Clash of Kings, Canonical Character Death, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fade to Black, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Beta Read, They're not really dead but the characters dont know that, Underage Sex, considering i dont think hed have done it if. yknow., dubious coping mechanisms, sex as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlilyvioletfog/pseuds/waterlilyvioletfog
Summary: He unfolded the letter carefully, a warm look on his face. But as he read, his face lost its color. His eyes grew wide and watery."Your Grace?" Jeyne asked tentatively. "Is something wrong?"He turned to face her, his expression wild, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. She took the letter from him. She scanned through it, the war report meaningless to her. Then she found it. She gasped. "The princes?"Robb choked on a sob- or maybe a scream- pressing a fist to his mouth. He shook his head frantically, staring at nothing. "No, no no no, Jeyne, don't say it, my lady." He buried his head in his hands, and began to weep.Robb receives the news of Bran and Rickon's "deaths". Jeyne is right there.
Relationships: Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	I Know, I Know, I'm Right Here, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: Both characters are sixteen, which is the legal age of consent in the state I live in, but they are minors so it's still underage. I tagged dubious consent because, much as I'm fond of Robb and Jeyne, I don't think he would've had sex with her if he hadn't been completely out of his head with grief. Cat isolates, Robb clings.   
> There is no explicit sex, and the fade to black cuts in while he's got pants on and she's wearing pajamas, essentially, so no nudity either. 
> 
> Jeyne Westerling is a criminally underrated character whom I adore. I generally interpret her as having a crush on Robb before she has sex with him, and him maybe thinking she's pretty, but intending to never act upon that. Anyway. I hope Jeyne doesn't die in TWOW :/

Dark wings, dark words. A raven brought news of Winterfell to the King shortly after the Crag's fall. He sat upright in Lady Jeyne's bed, bandages pressed around his wounded shoulder. She stood nearby; she had just finished redressing it. 

"A letter from Winterfell?" The man who brought the letter nodded. "Did it say anything important?" 

"I did not read it, Your Grace." Robb smiled, dryly. 

"Your discretion is appreciated, Tom." He nodded in dismissal, and Tom bowed out. 

He unfolded the letter carefully, a warm look on his face. But as he read, his face lost its color. His eyes grew wide and watery. 

"Your Grace?" Jeyne asked tentatively. "Is something wrong?" 

He turned to face her, his expression wild, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. She took the letter from him. She scanned through it, the war report meaningless to her. Then she found it. She gasped. "The princes?" 

Robb choked on a sob- or maybe a scream- pressing a fist to his mouth. He shook his head frantically, staring at nothing. "No, no no no, Jeyne, don't say it, my lady." He buried his head in his hands, and began to weep. 

Sympathy panged beneath her breast. If Elenya or Rollam, her younger siblings, had died- oh, Seven, she'd be torn apart. Jeyne reached out a gentle hand to his unwounded shoulder. He gripped her wrist tightly. 

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," she said softly. 

Robb looked up at her, blue eyes full of anguish. _Oh,_ she thought suddenly, _he's the same age as me_. A king of two kingdoms, fatherless, and now, brotherless. 

"Jeyne," he said. It was a plea. Her heart ached, and she reached out to cup his cheek as gently as she knew how. She was kneeling before him, now, his head cradled between her palms. 

"Your Grace?" 

"Robb," he said, very firmly. She nodded, brushing away a tear with her thumb. 

"Robb. A good name, you know. Short, strong. Very manly." 

A pained gasp of a laugh. "I don't feel like any of those things right now." 

"I know. I know, I know." Her fingers seemed to reach out of their own accord to smooth his auburn curls. "I know you don't." He leaned his face into her hand. Somehow, she found courage within her, and she bent her head forward to knock against his. "But I'm here." 

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. One fist clenched on parchment paper, crumpling the news it'd carried. The other hand came up to bury itself in her hair, holding her close. His breath fanned across her cheeks. "Jeyne," he said. "Jeyne, Jeyne, _Gods_ , how am I to bear this?" 

"I don't know, but I'm here." 

He nodded. "You're here." 

"I'm here." 

"You're-" 

And he was kissing her, his lips pressed furiously against hers. Jeyne had never been kissed before, and she gasped. His tongue quickly filled the space within her mouth, licking into her. _He wishes to bury himself in me,_ Jeyne thought. Jeyne closed her eyes and let him. 

He pulled her up onto her bed, clutching her close, one hand wound into her hair, the other cupping her face. His hands were large and warm, and she felt callouses from swordplay upon the delicate skin of her cheek. The reddish not-quite beard he sported tickled and pricked at her. She didn't particularly like it. She found she didn't care. 

She had no air, no air to say his name, and she _wanted_ to say his name, so she broke away to breathe out "Robb," before he took her mouth again. Any thoughts but this, this, this, Robb Stark, King of the North, red hair, freckled skin, blue eyes, _Robb_ , deserted her completely. 

He was already stripped of shirt and doublet, leaving only pale skin. Jeyne's fingers found his shoulders, broad and strong, and she toppled him back into her featherbed. Absurdly, a bawdy tune she'd heard one of their knights singing came to her mind. _My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I'll lay you down_. 

He fell back readily, pulling her on top of him. Her hair fell all around him, and his hand fell down her back. For a moment he was tangled, but Robb's fingers were deft and her stays was were quickly. He peeled her out of it and her gown until she was in her shift and smallclothes above him and naught else. The weight of what was happening hit her suddenly and she pulled back to look at him. Robb stared at her, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones. His hand found her face again, and she let him bring their mouths back together 

*** 

After he spent himself deep within her belly, she collapsed into her bed beside him. It was lucky Jeyne hadn't fallen right onto his injured shoulder, because she didn't think she could move. Her thighs burned, her womanhood ached. They were both panting, naked and covered with sweat. 

Robb's breathing calmed next to her. He turned to her. "You're here?" 

She threaded her fingers through his. "Right here, Robb." 


End file.
